


Book 1: The Last

by DoctorWhoUnity



Series: Doctor Who: Unity [2]
Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-07-08 16:00:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15933764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoctorWhoUnity/pseuds/DoctorWhoUnity
Summary: On Earth, a missing person case has taken a disturbing turn for Detective Inspector Adam Pritchard.  People are starting to forget all about her.  Even work colleagues don't seem to remember the name Victoria Jenkins.  Only one other person believes him, and may hold the answer, once she has found her Doctor.





	1. No Tea?

_The Office of the Lord President_

_The Capitol_

_Gallifrey_

 

The President was restless. Very restless.

As he sat at the table with the the other members of the Inner Council, his knees were taking it in turns to jig up and down, up and down. Right now, it was the lefts turn, and right was very eager for its crack.

The problem was, mused the President, he wasn’t all that good at sitting still for very long. So meetings, like this one, were very much not his cup of tea.

Thinking of tea, he reached forward for the china cup in front of him. With the cup halfway to his mouth, he rememberd he’d drank his cup dry.

He looked around at his collegues, all of them listening intently to Vice-President Ushas’ report of the situation in the Traken system. Now there was a bad state of affairs that needed dealing with. But, first…

“Who’s got the teapot?” Interrupted the President.

Ushas turned to face him, her red hair whipping round fast enough to cause a neck injury. “Sorry, Lord President?”

“The teapot.” Said the President. “Who had it last. I’m all tea’d out.”

Ushas motioned her head towards another figure at the table. A dark haired, thin faced man, with a rather severe goatee.

“Lord Koschei had it last? She replied. A hint of the schoolyard in her voice.

Lord Koshei, head of the Temporial Stability Authority, looked a bit sheepish.

“I have an _empty_ teapot.” He stood up. “But I can get some more...”

The President raised his hand. “No. Don’t. Ignore me. I’m just feeling a bit twitchy.” He turned his attention to Ushas. “Please continue.”

Ushas took a deep breath, and leant forward to review her notes, muttering somehting about loosing her place under her breath.

Then with a loud “Ah.. there.” She continued her report on the Traken Civil War.

The President closed his eyes as he took in the report. How had this allowed to happen? They were Time Lords, for Omegas sake, they should be able to do something?

How could a meeting run out of tea? It beggared belief.

He gave his full attention to the report. This neeeded dealing with soon. Now, even. He vowed if Ushas wanted to go and ‘help’, he would let her.

Just as his right leg was beginning it’s turn to twitch, a hand rested gently upon it. The President opened an eye and saw his wife, Alicia, smiling at him.

“Sit still!” She said quietly. “You’ll have the table over!”

The President returned her smile, and much to his right legs annoyance, he stopped it bouncing up and down.

The meeting carried on. As predicted, a request to assist in the Traken situation was made. And as he intended, the President gave it his full support.

“I want you to go there yourself.” Added the President, talking to Ushas. “Meet with the rebel leaders.. find out whats going on. Then come back.”

Ushas looked at the Presiddent. Her face showing an unnatural look of concern. “You do know I have an Academy student working with me? And that they’ll have to..”

The President interrupted. “I trust you to ensure their safety at all times.”

Ushas nodded, not missing the undercurrent of threat in the Presidents comment. “I assure you, Lord President, that their safety will be my first priority.”

“Good!” Snapped Alicia. “Make sure it is.”

The President looked between his wife and VP. “Okay, ladies. Let’s keep it civil.”

His wife looked abashed. “But, with respect, I haven’t said _anything!_ ”

The President laughed. “Not yet. Anyway.” He said, looking towards Ushas. “I think that’s everything, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Lord President.” Replied Ushas. “I think we’ve covered everything.”

The President stood, his mood returning the lighter, almost flippant mood he was known for. “Goodo. I call this meeting to an end, and ask you all to go away make someone elses lifes miserable.”

A chorus of “Yes, Lord Pressident” was mixed with the scraping of chairs, and low level banter as the rest of the Inner Council went about their duties. Only Alicia, and Ushas were left.

“Right then.” The President said, rubbing his hands togetther with barely supressed glee. “Shall we get this party started?”

“You’re enjoying this too much.” Observed Alicia.

“And?” Asked the President, as he removed the glasses this incarnation needed to wear after his last incarnation was attacked by a temporal weapon, and proceeded to clean them on his robes of office.

“And… You need to take this more seriously!” His wife said.

All the good cheer drained from the Presidents face. “There has never been a moment since this all began where I didn’t take it seriously.” He said, his voice quiet.

Realising her mistake, Alicia placed her hand on his arm. “I know, and I’m sorry.” She placed a kiss on his right cheek. “I wasn’t thinking.”

Having finished cleaning his glasses, the President placed them back on his face, a smile once again spreading. “I know.” He turned away, walking towards the back of the meeting room. “I’m keen to get it over with.”

He reached the door to his inner office and turned. “You know what you have to do?”

Ushas nodded as she spoke for both of them. “Yes. Wait for the signal, even though we have no idea what this signal is?”

Alicia laughed “He’s going to say ‘You will know when you see it’, aren’t you?|”

The President opened the door. “No need. He said as he stepped through. “You just said it for me.”

With that, the President closed the door.

 

The President began to pull off his robes as he walked across his office to his desk. Underneath, he was wearing a suit of Earth design. Matching jacket and trousers of a rough, brown material worn with a white shirt, and dark tie.

The kind of suit seen on the streets of Britian in 1944. A suit that says ‘I may not have a lot of money, but I can still look smart.’

He’d thought about adding a few tears and ‘repairs’ to it, to make it look more authentic, but he’d decided against it. If it came to it, he had enough false papers to get more clothes if he needed it. And he knew he would.

He opened the top drawer of his desk, taking from it a battered leather wallet, a ration book, an ID Card in the name of ‘John Smith’, and a few other items that would make his life easier.

Lastly, he took out his trusted Screwdriver.

Not the ornate red and gold one his daughter, Sarina, had given him the day he became President. But the sleeek back and silver one he’d carried during the Nekkistani War, the very war where he was blinded by one of their accursed Time Viruses.

He touched a button on it’s surface. It emmitted a familiar hum, as well as a bright, purple light at the silver end of the device.

He closed the drawer, and then examined himself in the long, dress mirror he’d brought from his TARDIS.

His hair was a wispy brown, with the slightest hint of blonde here and there. His face was one that was made to smile, and to make others smile too. His bulid was solid and stocky; a powerful build that was capable of such gentleness too.

He smiled at his reflection, straightened his tie, and called out to his office.

“Transmat to Presidential TARDIS Cradle. Colonel Tydus, I expect to see you there.”

A womans voice replied. “Of course, Lord President. The Colonel will meet you there. Transmat in progress.”

With that. The President had very much left the building.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Dark Clouds Over...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for the President to get on his way, but not before a slight detour.

_Presidential TARDIS Cradle_

_The Capitol_

_Gallifrey_

 

The President shimmered into the Cradle, and promptly began to sneeze.

A short, bald man stood watching this usual post-transmat occurrence with the President, and couldn’t hide his smile.

“Why don’t you just _walk_ down?” He laughed.

“Because, my dear Tydus.” said the President, taking the handkerchief offered by his friend. “It’s the only way I can get you to laugh without resorting to toilet humour.”

Colonel Tydusmorbiousglestius of the Presidential Guard tried to keep a straight face, and failed. “You know me too well.” He laughed.

The President gave him a brief hug. “That’s why you’re on my team, me old mate.”

As he released Tydus, his mood shifted to a more serious one.

“So, this is it then?” Tydus asked.

“I’m afraid so. Three lives worth of hard work about to come to fruition.”

The President began to walk around the white room that was the Presidential Cradle. The walls were decorated with a selection of tools and appliances, each one vital to the care and maintenance of a TARDIS. And even a few ones that could be considered ‘unconventional’ by Time Lord standards. Not many other Time Lords had a full set of JCB power tools, a Car Care Kit from a Sliver Serif, and a rusty looking saw with sign saying ‘DO NOT TOUCH!! THIS MEANS YOU, USHAS!” taped to it.

Tydus was looking at this, as he always did. “She’ll find out that it’s nothing special.”

The President laughed. “But until then we can enjoy that pantomime of her trying to figure out why she can’t touch it.”

The President finished his small wanderings and returned to the centre of the Cradle, and gave his full attention to what was resting within it.

“Hello, Old Girl.” He smiled.

In the cradle stood what can be best described as a blue box. To many races of the cosmos it was a very familiar blue box. One that played its part in the histories of countless civilisations. The President smiled as he mused on the possibility that ‘Police Box’ were possibly the two most well known words in the English language.

This was, of course, _his_ TARDIS. The one that he left Gallifrey so long ago. That young, impish man who decided that enough was enough, and it was time to go. He didn’t dwell much on his first incarnation, even the slightest hint of it made him sad. Even now, in his fifth incarnation, he couldn't bring himself to dwell too long on that life, on her…

_Goodbye Susan. Goodbye my dear._

But it would all be put right soon. He could bring her home.

He pulled himself back to the present as he placed a loving hand on the wooden door to his constant travelling companion.

Tydus gave a polite cough, the President turned around abruptly, all smiles and sparkling eyes. His favourite mask to show to the universe.

“Right then. Let’s have a look!” He clapped his hands in a show of genuine excitement. No harm in having a little fun surely?

Tydus nodded, and took a comms device from his belt.

“This is Tydus. Send it in.”

The Cradle was filled with the light hum of a transmat beam as a large object was brought into existence next to the Presidents TARDIS.

The President turned and moved towards it, smiling.

“Blimey! They’ve done a good job on it, haven’t they?

Tydus walked to stand beside his friend, and smiled broadly.

“I know! Maxil dropped in to see me yesterday, and he was, shall we say, very pleased with himself.”

“He’s got every right to be! Make sure we send him something nice.”

The President had always been fond of Maxil. Sure, he could be a bit too earnest in his work, and his smiles were so infrequent that they were a cause for celebration. But, under that head of blonde curls, was one hell of a brain.

The two stood looking at the new addition to the Cradle, looks of almost childish glee on their faces.

“It’s ready then?” Asked the President.

“Yes, Lord President. Once the signal is received, it will lock on to it and be on it’s way.”

“I just hope there will be someone to send the signal.”

Tydus pulled a scroll from his belt. “There will be. We think we’ve found them.”

Really? Show me.”

The President took the proffered scroll, and proceeded to unravel it.

The scroll contained two names. Human names.

“These are the most likely candidates?” Enquired the President.

“Yes. Although it would appear that this one. “ Tydus tapped the first name on the list. “Would appear to be the mostly likely. Their exposure to Artron energy at such a young age seems to have cemented the Unity gene firmly into their DNA.”

“But the other one is still viable?”

“We think so. We should send someone to keep an eye on them.”

The President nodded. “Agreed. Send Alicia. She’s been researching this new timeline, so she’ll be better equipped to handle any problems.”

“And you?” Tydus asked.

“Me? Oh I’ll meet her there. But I’ve got something I want to see first. Tell her I’m going the long way round.”

“Is that wise?”

“Of course not! But can you honestly expect me to pass up an opportunity like this?”

Tydus shook his head. “No. I suppose not. But... it’s rather dangerous. Being that close to the edge of a Distortion Wave.

“Which, dear Tydus, is why I’ve never allowed any research time to go and study it.”

Tydus thought for a second. “You know you can’t get involved? I mean it, Thet, you _really_ can’t.”

The President, taken aback by the use his old nickname, looked grim.

“I know. And it’s going to be hard. But Ty… I’ve got to see this. Don’t you understand? I’ve _got to!”_

“I do, yes! Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“What did I tell you about cliches?” Laughed the President.

Tydus did something very odd then. He stuck his tongue out at his Lord President.

The President pulled his TARDIS key from his jacket pocket. “Time I was off. I’ve got a disaster to watch.”

Tydus gave his friend another brief hug.

“For Omegas sake, Thet, be careful!”

The President looked crestfallen.

“Do I have to?”

 

The President stood on a grassy outcrop overlooking the English Channel. What he saw was both terrible, and exciting.

A storm unlike anything he’d seen before was raging below him.

The sea was being whipped into angry torrents of ice cold water. The vast armada of boats were being tossed about like so many childrens toys.

The cries of the sailors and passengers were drowned out by the raging storm, but the President could imagine them. Cries of fear and anguish as they watched friends being drowned by a storm that seemingly just came out of nowhere.

The clouds above them were the darkness of nothing. A true black that only the strongest of light could penetrate.

The President couldn't watch anymore. He turned away and walked back to his TARDIS. He’d go and find a nice place to wait for his friends.

Manchester. That would do, for now.

As his TARDIS departed, the storm raged on. Ripping both man and boat apart.

It was a day that would never be forgotten.

6thJune, 1944. The day Operation Overlord failed.

  
  
  



	3. Downtime of the Daleks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for a nice evening in with the Daleks.

_Alliance Vortex Monitoring Outpost 37_   
_3.4 Light Years from Sol_

Throughout the Alliance, a string of outposts existed for one purpose only, to monitor the Vortex, and look for any kind of anomalies lurking within the turbulent tunnel of time.

Outpost 37 was special, it was concerned with only one planet. And that planet was Earth.

For reasons not entirely understood by the Alliance Science Ministry, Earth was a hotbed of temporal activity. It’s Artron count was one of the highest in the Galaxy.

Right now Outpost 37 was quiet. That was going to change very soon.

It was late in the ‘day’ and most of its crew were either resting, socializing with friends or a few alternative activities.

All expect for Lieutenant Defid.

It was Defids turn to do the overnight shift in the Control Centre. It wasn’t mandatory for there to be such a shift, but Professor Telsen was keen for there to be someone to keep an eyestalk on what was going on. Defid was happy to oblige. After all, it would give him time to do some reading.

Defid was an avid history buff, and it was an interest he shared with the Professor. The Professor had left a pile of books on Defids desk, much to his excitement. Not datacards, but actual books! Defid was acutely aware that they were precious to the Professor, and therefore should be treated with the reverence and love they most certainly deserved.

The book Defid was currently reading was a collection of Kaled stories for children, written decades before the War, which was why books like this were so valued. There were so few of them left.

He turned the page gently, making sure not to so much as leave the slightest smear from his small, thin tentacle. The current tale, The Thal Who Came Home, was a personal favourite. The Professor had once said that this was probably the last Kaled story written where a Thal was shown in a positive light. But, even at the point when this story was written, the rot had already began to set in.

Defid yawned. His small, round mouth opening wide and emitting a quiet, content yawn. The gums were toothless. Oh, small dentures were available, but there wasn’t really much point. It’s not like they could ingest solid food.

Not that Defid was ungrateful, far from it. Their Nursery Group had had the mutation that plagued their kind reversed to such an extent that they were able to take food in liquid form, they even needed to sleep. But, best of all, it allowed them to survive outside of their protective shell.

Defid gave silent thanks to Alpha and Beta that they, no that he, could live the life he did.

Gender was something that had only been reintroduced a few dozen Groups before his. There wasn’t a law to say you had to stick to that gender, that wasn’t the Dalek way, but he liked to. He thought it was what helped make him, well, him.

Dalek society was built around the importance of the individual, a far cry from the Dark Days. Now there was a part of history that Defid stayed away from. He’d had his fill of the Time of Davros whilst he was at the Science Academy. It depressed him deeply thinking about his ancestors, and their abhorrent lust for power and conquest. The Dalek Alliance, from it’s inception, believed that history had an important part to play in their fledgling society. To show those who came after the truth about their past. Every dark, evil part of it.

Defid yawned again, he was getting tired. Not a promising start to the night shift. He was sure he’d get his second wind in the small hours of the morning.

As he turned another page, a discreet beeping noise emanated from the main Monitoring Station.

Defid sighed as he looked over at the console. What now? He thought, a tingle of excitement helped shake off the mental cobwebs.

He gently closed the book.

“Return.” He said, in a small, quiet voice.

His control chair began to move quietly back into the shell of his Travel Machine. As he moved back inside, he replaced the headset over the small nub of a ear to the left of his eye.

At first glance, Defid would not look too dissimilar to his ancestors. He was, and this never failed to make him chuckle, a glorified blob with bits.

His one large eye was a dark brown, his skin was a pleasant light blue. His 6 tentacles allowed him to manipulate objects, and even move around outside his Machine.

And, best of all, they allowed him to swim!

Swimming had become one of the biggest pastimes on Skaro these days. Everyone swam. He’d even competed in a few swimming competitions in his Academy days.

The casing sealed with a series of soft clicks. Unlike the early Daleks, Defid and his kind were not ‘hard wired’ into the Travel Machine. They controlled it in the same way a biped would control a vehicle. And they treated them as such.

Defid hummed to himself as he brought his Machines systems online. A series of small screens lit up in front of him, showing him a wide range of information. Everything from the current status of the Outpost, to personal communications.

He listened keenly to the voices over the open channel on his headset. Another cherished pastime of the Daleks was bickering. Good natured, extensive bickering. It was, after all, the creed of the Alliance to question everything. Within reason of course.

The current discussion on the open channel was in relation to current situation on Traken. Both the Alliance and Time Lords had offered their services as mediators in the civil war. The discussion was should they apply a small amount of pressure to their requests. This was seemingly universally rejected.

Defid gave the debate half an ear as he maneuvered his Machine to the beeping console. Once he saw what the cause of the alert was, he shut off the debate feed and gave the computer his full, undivided attention.

This was bad, he thought. Very bad.

Earth's Artron count had just spiked well and truly into the red.

Defid activated the internal comms system.

 

“This is Lieutenant Defid. I’m enacting an Ultra One Emergency. Repeat, Ultra One. Professor Telson to the Command Centre, please.”

 

Throughout the station, sirens began to shout out the alert. Red and purple lights began to flash on every corridor, in every room.

In the pool, Professor Telsen hurried to his Machine, and set it moving at a high speed, not even waiting for the Machine to seal.

He charged down the corridor, repeating ‘sorry, my fault’ as he nearly collided with other crew members who were hurrying to their own posts.

As he headed towards the door to the Command Centre, he saw the Outpost Commander almost flying down the corridor towards him.

The OC’s eyestalk was moving up and down frantically, the triangular eyepiece at the end span just as frantically. He was obviously more than a little concerned.

They met at the door to the Command Centre, the OC gave a silent nod of his eyestalk to indicate Telsen should enter first.

With a quick word of thanks, Telsen swept through the doors.

“Well, Defid. What have you got to show me?”

Without taking his eyestalk from the display, Defid began to tell the Professor what he’d seen.

The Professor listened, and waited for Defid to finish before speaking.

“Earth's Artron Count is actually higher than normal?”

Defid nodded his eye-stalk. “Yes. I didn’t think that would even be possible?”

“Nor me.” Added the OC as he joined them at the console.

The Professor thought for a moment. “Dafid, would you mind if I..?”

Defid moved away from the console. “Not at all, Professor.”

The Professor moved into the space just vacated by Defid, and began to manipulate the controls with the two three-pronged manipulators at the front of his Machine.

As he typed, data flew across the screen. Lines and lines of numbers, notation, and other symbols.

It was these other symbols that got his attention.

“Commander. Have we got any ships nearby?”

The OC thought for a second. “Yes. Captain Skargol has not long left us after a resupply run.”

“Good. Please inform the Captain he is to set course for Earth. But he’s not to make planetfall until I know a bit more.”

“A bit more? About what?”

Telsen indicated the strange symbols on the readout. “About where they’re all going to Earth.”

Defid understood. The reason for Earth's Artron Count going haywire was because, for some reason a large group of Time Lords were heading there, or were already there.

Why? He had no idea.

But he did know it meant things were about to get very complicated indeed.

He wouldn’t have got any comfort from knowing that he was 100% right.


End file.
